Chapter 5
She ran through the options of what might happen in the next hour. Hanging? Impalement? Crushed to death by rocks? Like an idiot, she’d come here willingly—though her shoulder hurt so badly that death almost seemed like a mercy at this point.
Just as their bodies shimmered back to visibility, the mage pulled up outside a looming gothic chapel, its towering walls built from dark granite. He parked his bike in the shadows and turned off the engine.
She loosened her grip on his waist, grimacing at the pain when she shifted position. “What are we doing here?”
“This is your safe haven. Abduxiel Mansion.” He stepped off the bike. “I’m going to heal your shoulder, and then you’re going inside.”
Rosalind gritted her teeth, crippled by pain. It felt like the bullet must have shattered her collarbone.
He moved closer. Gently, he tugged down the collar of her white shirt, exposing her wounded shoulder.
Pain ripped through her entire arm. If the agony from the gunshot weren’t drowning out all other thoughts, she’d probably be running in terror from the mage right now.
As he traced his fingers over her flesh, he whispered a spell. His aura seeped into her body, drawing the pain from her shattered bones and caressing her skin. She glanced down to see her wound healing, and let out a long breath. Gods, it felt so much better. As if that weren’t enough, the blood disappeared from her shirt.
She took a steadying breath as the mage covered her shoulder with her shirt again. Something about his proximity deeply unnerved her. Maybe it was the fact that he served the night god—just like the vamps who’d murdered her parents.
“What about the bullet?” she asked.
“Gone.”
She still had no idea why he was helping her. “You even cleaned the blood out of my shirt.”
“It would attract vampires.”
She shuddered. “Thank you. I guess.” He’d just saved her life, yet he was her natural enemy. Frantic thoughts whirled through her mind. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why are we here? Why is Randolph Loring hunting me?”
At that moment, the chapel doors creaked open, and a man in a black robe motioned for her to enter. A dark hood cast his face in shadow.
“You’re safe here,” the mage said. “Orcus will look after you.”
“You want me to stay in this mansion?”
“The Brotherhood won’t be able to find you here.”
The sight of the cleric tightened her chest. He looked like a grim reaper. In fact, he probably was a grim reaper. “Do I have a choice in any of this? Am I a prisoner?”
The mage’s raven circled overhead, then landed on his shoulder. “You came here willingly, but I have instructions to make sure you’re safe, which means staying in the mansion. Orcus will make sure no one hurts you.”
Desperation warped her mind, and she struggled to string a coherent thought together. “I can’t stay here. There’s obviously been some sort of mistake. I’m not a mage. I’m a Hunter. When things have calmed down, I’ll explain everything to the Brotherhood. I’ve never even seen a spell book.” She suddenly felt a desperate need to convince him.
Dark lashes framed his pale eyes, and his unwavering gaze almost hypnotized her. “The Brotherhood execute people without trials, and they want to burn you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You won’t be able to reason with them. On some level, you understand that, or you’d never have come with me.”
The night wind kissed her skin. “They execute demons. Not people. And they don’t burn people anymore. That was just a medieval thing.”
“The medieval ways are returning.”
“I’m not a mage.” Her mind raced with panic. What if this whole thing had been an illusion concocted by the demons to tempt her away from her true path? “I’ve never learned any magic.”
Moonlight bathed his cheekbones and pale eyes in silver. “It doesn’t matter what you are. It matters what they think you are.”
“And I’m supposed to stay with the grim reaper.” She had no idea who to trust at this point, but the shadow mage ranked pretty low on the list, and she couldn’t see herself going out for Appletinis with the faceless reaper anytime soon. “I’m supposed to just take your word for all of this.”
“You’re supposed to use your own senses and capacity for rational thought. You saw the Brotherhood coming for you, and they shot you.” He glanced away. “I don’t have time for this.”
“How can I trust my own senses when you have the power to warp them?”
His cold gaze slid over her, and as he stepped closer, her heart skipped a beat. “What purpose would that serve? If I wanted you dead, you’d be in the earth right now. If I wanted you to kill people, you’d be pulling out one of those knives and thrusting it into a heart.”
Dread tightened its grip around her chest as she looked up at him. “Tell me why you helped me.”
“Ambrose wants you alive.”
“And who the hell is Ambrose?”
“You don’t need to know that right now.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from screaming at him. She needed answers, and he was giving her nothing. She steadied her voice. “Okay, let’s start with this: You know my name. You apparently know things about me. And who, exactly, are you?”
“Caine Mountfort. We’ve met before.” He cocked his head, examining her. “Apparently, I didn’t leave such a lasting impression.”
Recognition flickered in the recesses of her mind—the boy with the gray eyes… “Did I know you in England? Before Mason adopted me?”
“England?” He arched an eyebrow. “Is that what the Brotherhood told you?”
She was ready to scream with frustration. “Yes, because that’s where I’m from. I lived in England until a few of your vampire buddies murdered my parents.”
He took a long, slow breath as if marshaling his patience. Something seemed to have unnerved him. “Look, I don’t have the time or the inclination to delve into this with you. You must go with Orcus.”
His habit of enticing her with hints while refusing to give a straight answer made her want to punch something. Her world had just been shattered, and the mage had answers he didn’t care to share. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about—not when he had mind-blowing magic on his side.
A hot tear spilled down her cheek. “Can’t you just answer my questions? What do you know about me? And why are the Brotherhood hunting me down? You and I both know I can’t be a mage if I’ve never chanted a single spell.”
He reached down, lifting her hand. At the touch of his strong hands, she felt a brief thrill from his magical aura, and it surged through her body like a jolt of electricity. What was that?
“Keep this ring on and stay away from the Brotherhood. You’ll be fine.” His gray eyes met hers. “Don’t trust anyone. Not Orcus. Not me. Not your best friends. No one. That’s all you need to know.” He turned to leave.
Don’t trust a bloodthirsty mage or the grim reaper standing behind me? Gee, you don’t say. His evasiveness infuriated her. “Are you coming back here?”
“No.”
“Where are you going?”
“You don’t need to know that. Stay with Orcus.” It was hard to ignore the ring of command in his voice.
Just like a goddamn mage to leave her question unanswered.
As she stood there like an idiot, he slipped into the cemetery’s shadows. My one chance at the truth—gone.
“Come with me.” Orcus’s gravelly voice made her jump, and she nearly staked him. There was no way in hell she wanted to go into Abduxiel Mansion with Crypt Guy.
Scary as Caine was, at least he was human, and a hood didn’t obscure his face.
His particularly stunning face.
The way she saw it, there were two options right now. Either the Brotherhood had made a mistake, or Caine had created this whole thing as an illusion. A cool breeze slipped over her skin, and she shivered.<
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What if Caine had glamoured demons to come for her? What if Longshanks and Fridge had been reapers spelled to appear human—
No. Magic didn’t work in the confines of Thorndike’s buildings. Plus, Caine had a point. If he wanted to control her, he could hypnotize her to do whatever he wanted.
Still, her heart clung to the possibility that this was all some sort of mistake. She pulled out her cell phone, and a message flashed from Josiah.
Where are you?
While Orcus cleared his throat, she frantically typed a message back to her Guardian.
Why are the Brotherhood after me? They say I’m a witch. I saw Randolph Loring. Did he come for me??
“Miss.” Orcus touched her arm, his fingers cold and bony. “You must come inside.”
She jerked her arm away from his touch, staring intently at her screen until a message popped up from Josiah.
Someone accused you of witchcraft. I don’t know who. You must stay hidden until I can fix this. Don’t use your phone again. I will find you. Lux in tenebris lucet.
The Brotherhood would track her phone. Panic clenched her heart. Even Josiah wanted her to run. Perfect, loyal Josiah, completely faithful to the Brotherhood, thought she should flee from the Hunters. He knew that once the Brotherhood had their sights set on a target, they didn’t give second chances—no explanations, no trials, no pardons.
At least her Guardian stood by her.
She swiped open another message—this one from Tammi, who’d been texting her from a campus party.
Ros where r u… I’m getting drukeus I lost one of my shoes…
Good. At least the Purifiers hadn’t involved her.
Rosalind hammered out another message.
Tammi—things have gotten weird with the Brotherhood. Josiah and I will sort it out. I’m OK, but I’ll be offline for a while. Speak soon. XO
She shut off her phone, steeling herself for a night with Crypt Guy.
She turned, but she couldn’t force herself to follow Orcus. In fact, there was no freaking way she was sealing herself up in a gothic mansion while Caine slipped off with her secrets. He’d implied her English roots were a lie, and then refused to explain. He’d known that the Brotherhood would come for her, but wouldn’t say why.
He was the only person who had the answers she needed, and she would wrench them out of him if her life depended on it. Which it does, come to think of it.
Her entire world had just shattered, and she wasn’t giving up on the remaining fragments without a fight.
She turned to the cleric. “I’m not coming in. I have more questions for Caine.”
“You will come with me, Miss,” he hissed, grabbing her arm.
A swift elbow to the jaw sent him sprawling in the chapel doorway, and she launched into a sprint over the grass, thundering up a grassy hill.
She wove through weeping stone angels and crooked obelisks, the gravestones jutting from the ground at odd angles like broken bones.
She tore past a row of stone crypts, and down a gently sloping hill. But she was running blindly, and had lost all trace of Caine. He’d slipped somewhere deep into the cemetery’s shadows. She ground to a halt near a gently rippling pond, trying to attune her senses to the delicious tingling of Caine’s magic.
A chilly wind rustled the leaves, and the moonlight shone on a tombstone’s etching. The Lord of Terror. Even for someone used to hunting demons, she was getting the creeps.
The breeze brought with it the scent of thunderstorms and wet grass, and the hair rising on the back of her arms told her that a powerful aura lurked nearby.
She followed a winding path that led to the water, catching the smell of burnt air—Caine’s magic. She just needed to home in on it.
She crept closer to the pond, drawn by his powerful aura. Anyone could sense magic, if they knew how to tune in to the right vibrations, but Rosalind could actually see it too. As far as she knew, no other Hunter had that ability. It was the reason she was born for the Brotherhood.
Goose bumps prickled on her skin as she drew closer to a row of mausoleums overlooking the water. Caine’s sensual magic lingered around one of the crypts, nestled among the oak and beeches, pulling her closer.
As she rubbed her arms in the chilly spring air, she approached the arched crypt. Its door hung slightly open, and the crypt walls glowed, faintly silver. This was the one. Caine lurked inside; gods knew why. Probably the entrance to a personal dungeon.
The magic rippled off the stony walls in waves, skimming over her skin. It called to her, sucking her in like the gravitational pull of a black hole.
As she pushed open the metal door, it let out a loud creaking noise that echoed off a high, peaked ceiling. Empty. What the hell? He’d definitely come in here. She could still smell his magic and see the lingering glow.
Faint moonlight reached the interior of the crypt, highlighting marble walls and glinting off a deep pool of dark water in the center of the crypt. What is a giant puddle doing in a mausoleum?
A powerful aura rolled off it, smelling of ozone—Caine’s magic. White-hot excitement surged in her veins. As with everything to do with mages, this mausoleum wasn’t exactly as it seemed.
It was a portal.
Of course a mage wouldn’t bother with a motorcycle when a portal could get him where he wanted instantly.
Her heart clenched. If she wanted to follow him through, she’d need to act now. Portals didn’t last forever.
There was a chance this one would take her right to Caine, and she could confront him to get the answers she wanted. There was also the possibility that he’d fly into a lethal rage. Plunging through the portal meant crossing an obvious boundary. And if she angered him, she’d suffer a slow and painful death at his hands.
Then again, he’d obviously spared her life for a reason. It was just like Josiah said. She needed to master her fear to get what she wanted. And what she wanted right now, more than anything, was answers.
The shadow mage held the key not only to her present life disasters, but to her past. He was the only remaining thread to her golden childhood memories, before the demons had ruined everything.
She gritted her teeth. The idea of jumping into a cold pool of water at the bottom of a crypt ranked only marginally higher than spending a night with Crypt Guy. She twisted the lucky ring around her finger, wondering what Tammi would tell her to do. She was pretty sure what Tammi would tell her not to do, starting with “don’t follow a psychotic mage through a pool of water in the bottom of a crypt.” Tammi was practical like that.
But if Rosalind took the practical route, she’d never find out the truth about herself. She’d never find out if Caine knew something more about her past, or why everyone thought she was a witch.
After sucking in a breath, she took a step forward, and leapt into the icy water.
Chapter 6
She plunged deep into the frigid water, the cold piercing her skin. Immediately, she regretted her choice. The pool was far deeper than she’d expected.
Frantically, she kicked her legs to return to the surface, but the shock of the chill disoriented her. For a moment, she couldn’t tell which way was up or down, and she flailed in the murky water, her pulse racing.
At last, her head pierced the surface; she tried to suck in air, but the frigid water had frozen her muscles.
Breathe, Rosalind.
As she blinked, waiting for the world to come in focus, she gasped. She was floating in a stone fountain, and her body shook from the cold. Above her, water flowed from the mouth of a stone woman in a torn dress. Rosalind clambered to the fountain’s edge, hoisting herself out of the water onto a cobblestone street. The air smelled of jasmine and sandalwood.
Where the hell was she?
The force of the magical aura sickened her, seeping into her skull like a poisonous miasma. She doubled over, retching. Good thing she’d skipped dinner.
Freezing, she rubbed her arms, trying to catch her breath. Her whi
te shirt now clung to her skin, her blue bra showing through the sodden fabric. Great.
She stood on a narrow lane, constructed entirely of stone. Pale moonflowers and gardenias hung from vines growing on the buildings that surrounded her, as though nature were trying to reclaim its domain.
But something drew her gaze upward: a steep-peaked castle stood on a high rocky hill, bathed in silvery moonlight. The towering gothic palace loomed over the land. What the hell…?
She couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t taken a portal to Caine’s house, or even his dungeon. She’d transported herself to another world. Everyone had heard the legends, but she’d never believed them to be true.
Maremount, Mount Acidale, Lilinor… What if these mythical places were real? And what if she’d just leapt into one of the demon realms? If that were the case, she needed to get the hell out of here. Fast. She could fight one or two demons—in theory. But she wasn’t ready to fight a whole demon realm.
Her imagination roamed free, and her mind spun with all the horrifying things she could remember about demons. Some killed fast, and others savored their victims’ agony, plucking apart the sinews and muscle like artists of gore.
At this point, only two things were certain: she was a complete idiot for plunging through the portal, and she should have stayed with the grim reaper.
She hugged herself, overcome by a sudden urge to plunge back into the cemetery. But when she glanced back into the fountain, all the water had disappeared.
Her world tilted; it felt like all the blood drained from her head. What the hell had she just done? Sure, she was probably safe from the Brotherhood here, but she wasn’t safe from anything else. In fact, she’d just thrown herself right into the monster’s lair. She really needed to find Caine now, assuming he still wanted to keep her alive.
She swallowed hard and took a tentative step, her teeth chattering. If she were lucky, she’d thrown herself into the mage’s realm. Which one is that? Maremount, maybe. At least, that’s what Josiah had once told her.
As she stepped over the damp cobblestones, cold fear washed over her skin. There was no sign of Caine in the city’s dark shadows, and she felt none of his dark magic caressing her skin. She reached for the flamethrower at her belt.
Magic Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 1) Page 4